


On His Own Sword

by ComeAsYouAre



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeAsYouAre/pseuds/ComeAsYouAre
Summary: Sex. He hated it. Perhaps "hate" was too strong a word for it, but at the moment, it felt an apt sentiment for... the deed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Original request:
> 
> "I have it. 
> 
> Vulpes hates sex. Maybe even is afraid? In any way shape and form. Anal, missionary, blowjobs/ handjobs? He hates it all, anons. Why did he purge Nipton? It was a town of whores. He's not gay, he's not straight, he straight up finds it criminal and disgusting. He's evolved, after all.
> 
> The courier finds this funny as hell. Decides to involves the whole gang in on picking on him.
> 
> Can be crack, can be serious, can have a pairing, can have him run screaming, anything you want, guys. But Vulpes is definitely unchanging when it comes to this: He hates sex."
> 
> Originally posted at:  
> http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4875.html?thread=8549643#t8549643

Sex. He hated it. Perhaps "hate" was too strong a word for it, but at the moment, it felt an apt sentiment for... the deed.

It was necessary, of course. The Legion needed soldiers, and it was best that soldiers were born of better stock than that of the filthy, uncivilized tribals... but that meant that a good and loyal Legion man would have to... _copulate_ with one of those too weak to fend off the Legion. Why should he have to sully himself with the touch of the unworthy? They tended to scream and cry and kick and squawk and all other manner of madness and despair when they were made to fulfill the only role they were - albeit questionably - fit for. That is to say… _breeding_.

There were those in the Legion who enjoyed the act, who weren't bothered by the cursing and spitting in the least. Those men had an appetite for such base things that he found beneath his dignity. The desire expressed by those who called themselves his peers merely showed them to be little better than the foul beasts they needed to bring to heel. One would think that those who have been given a proper education who know better. They should know that it was their duty to enlighten the rest of the Mojave, unworthy as its denizens were. To be educated and civilized- by _force_ if necessary.

He thought he'd made that necessity perfectly clear to The Courier. She had been taken aback by Nipton, but dared to look him in the eye, as though they were equals - laughable! - and ask why the citizens had to be punished so. She'd seemed in awe of him then, despite her fear, and for a brief time, he had thought she was amenable to Legion morality. At least, as much as a woman could be, anyway. If there was a savage worth saving, it might have been her. She might have been teachable.

Apparently, he'd completely misjudged her.

When Caesar had asked for his assessment of Courier Six, Vulpes had decisively informed the Son of Mars that the wandering wild woman could be used in their fight against the NCR. Indeed, she was well-regarded among the various warring factions in the Mojave, and had an “in” to the coveted New Vegas strip, something even the slippery frumentarius had not been able to manage.

Vulpes had been perfectly pleased that Caesar had not only taken his counsel, but had chosen to send _him_ to summon the Courier. That was not an honor he expected, though not altogether surprising.

Now, however… Vulpes was no longer quite so pleased.

When he’d appeared to the Courier, she’d been dressed to kill. Specifically, the man who’d put a bullet in her head. That the man in the abominable checkered suit had left with his life, gave the frumentarius pause, but the Courier, guileless as ever, had seen no reason to hide her reasoning. Firstly, that the attempt on her life had been a matter of business and nothing personal; secondly, a slimy cheat like him could prove useful in the future. Magnanimous and shrewd. Vulpes had approved, to her evident embarrassment. He’d thought then that was because savages rarely valued intellect, or recognized its value, and appreciation, however mildly expressed, was unfamiliar to her, though clearly not unwelcome. Foolish degenerates. That was their loss. Caesar would not waste such qualities.

She’d been speechless at the magnanimity the Son of Mars gave her, looking uncertainly at the mark before looking to him, searching his eyes with her own. Vulpes had thought it expedient to simply drape the chain about her neck.

That had been a mistake.

The Courier had tried to kiss him then, in a rush of gratitude and… something else he could not bear to speak of. Naturally, he’d nearly thrown her off in revulsion, but had to settle for holding her at arm’s length to spell out, in painfully simple terms, that this was _Caesar’s_ favor, not _his_. He should have realized from her questions at Nipton, that it would not have been enough.

He took far longer than he would have liked to get away from the Courier. But he could not risk her potential assistance to the Legion. If not for that, he would have not hesitated to put her down like the animal she was regrettably turning out to be. Alas... It did not take long before the blasted woman had deduced the truth of his preferences. Namely, that he had none. That had come after telling the wretch **in no uncertain terms** that he did NOT fancy men. As if that were not bad enough, she began to question him, in grotesquely specific language, why he did not _appreciate_ the charms of women. Eventually she began lose steam, but then...

“Alright, yes. In spite of all the lovely things about it, sex can be a bit awkward and _squelchy_ , but I’ve never met a man who… “

He must have done something that gave himself away, because her eyes widened in understanding.

“Stars above… you don’t like sex?”

Vulpes did not appreciate that fact being spoken of so tactlessly.

“Because it’s _squelchy_ …”

He **hated** that word, if it was truly a word at all, and not merely some nonsense the madwoman had just thought up. Even if it was, that it so aptly captured his feelings on the subject, on a level he could not comprehend - how it inspired revulsion in an uncomfortably _instinctual_ way - only made him loathe it more. And he despised that such an oddly succinct - dare say he “perfect”? - descriptor had come from _her_.

“Oh my god. The Fox of the Mojave doesn’t like _sex!_ ”

Of _course_ a tribal would waste her intellect on something so… so… utterly _base…_

“Does Caesar know?”

The blood had drained from his face, and he could have killed her on the spot when she laughed. He slammed the Courier up against the side of the building and made her swear to silence on the matter. It was distressingly easy to get her word. That was not the worst it it, though. The infernal creature had somehow found the loss of his self control… appealing. Something about his sudden display of strength, or the threat of violence, or worse, something about _him_ in the heat of that moment had… sparked… _something_ that made him want to tear at his scalp and scream.

He did none of those things of course, he was far too disciplined for that. Still, even through the active effort of willing himself back under control, he saw, with blinding clarity, the Courier _wanting_. And he knew just how dangerous that was. He’d seen with his own eyes what she could do. He had respected that fierceness of will, once. Had even sneered at those who would stand in her way. She was more clever, more determined, more versatile, than most, and for those qualities, she would be permitted to serve.

But now… but now, he was the object of her focus. To what end? There is wanting, and also _wanting_ of the more… _carnal_ variety. Vulpes cursed and wished that the Son of Mars had seen fit to have Lanius fetch her instead: the Legate might have found a woman such as the Courier entertaining. Perhaps even the generally reserved Lucius, who preferred his slaves somewhat more willing than most men in the Legion. Such thoughts were pointless, and he banished them furiously. In the meantime, he had a certain degenerate whore pinned to the wall. A fact that she did not seem to mind in the slightest.

And they had begun to draw an audience.

He fled, much to his shame, without another word, hounded by the fiery looks and unabashed amusement of the Courier.

If nothing else, he could report that the mission was a success, however tainted.

Waiting for the Courier to arrive at the Fort had been maddening. Caesar waited for no one, and yet this _woman_ dared to delay their meeting. The Son of Mars did not seem overly perturbed by this, though perhaps the wait felt more strenuous to Vulpes: he’d half expected to become the subject of many crass and off-color humor, such as the plebians could fashion of his... sexuality. As though _he_ were the deviant, and not those ignorant, sex-crazed animals! But nothing of the sort happened. It seemed the Courier preferred to hold his secret over his head.

Damned wretched creature! 

He refused to be grateful. He would be, at _most_ , cautiously relieved.

When the Courier finally deigned to arrive, she went boldly through the camp. She was maddeningly fearless. The men at the fort were irritated by her manner, for she was not modest, nor deferential when she spoke to them. To her, they were as nothing, when it should have been the reverse because of her womanhood. Vulpes suspected that her arrogance was due to her knowing his not-quite secret. Perhaps she thought that if she could hold him at bay, that she could the rest of the Legion. If so, then he could take some solace in knowledge that her arrogance would most likely result in her downfall. The knowledge did not comfort him much.

Worse was yet to come. Somehow, the meeting had gone quite well. Even Caesar found himself reluctantly charmed by the Courier’s wit, her education allowing her to speak of things that most in the Legion did not dream of, nor cared to. Vulpes suppressed his dismay. He too, had been charmed by her agile mind once, and he feared that Caesar would give her a position as some sort of favored consort, simply for her conversational skills. If so, there would be no curbing that tongue of hers, nor properly taming the wretch, until the next leader of the Legion hopefully beheaded her.

Still, the woman did not try the patience of the Son of Mars. She accepted her orders and made to leave as soon as was reasonably possible. As she waited for her gear to be returned to her, however, the Courier caught his eyes. Vulpes wished he had gone straight to his tent, for the infernal whore then made what could only be interpreted as lusty overtures to him _in the middle of the entire damned fort._

She never knew how close he came to killing her for her mockery. And perhaps she never would, for Caesar had seen her revolting display and hummed thoughtfully.

“Vulpes,” the Son of Mars smirked knowingly, “see to it that the Courier has _reason_ to remain loyal.”

Any other day, he would have been honored to have Caesar’s confidence in his abilities. Not to say that he was not honored by his trust, but if Caesar expected _him_ to seduce that depraved harlot…

“Vulpes!” Lucius smiled, “Well, it’s not every day a man’s duty is to take his pleasure of a woman.” He clapped his hand upon the frumentarius’ shoulder. “The things we do for the Legion!”

_Indeed._ Vulpes thought bitterly, as he watched the Courier cast a burning, mirth-filled look in his direction before sauntering out of the fort, _the things we do for the glory of Caesar…_


End file.
